


pleasant accommodations

by CapnShellhead



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Fingerfucking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 14:02:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14310249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapnShellhead/pseuds/CapnShellhead
Summary: There's a little thief in T'Challa's bed.





	pleasant accommodations

**Author's Note:**

> Quick porn for EJ <3
> 
> This idea came about because I kept typing t-shirt as "t'shirt" on my phone.

T’Challa was exhausted.

He’d been in and out of meetings all day and he just wanted to relax. Maybe crawl on the couch and watch a movie or head back to his room to catch a nap. He didn’t spend all his time at the mansion but he stayed here when he had business at the Wakandan consulate or Avengers duties ran long.

Ultimately, he decides to head up to his room for a nap. He was looking forward to getting some rest, but what he finds in his bedroom makes it clear, he won't be getting any.

Tony was curled up on top of his covers in a t-shirt and nothing else. Arousal burns through T'Challa's blood as he realizes Tony had stolen one of his shirts. He closes the door behind him and tugs off his shirt.

They’d done this a few times. One night, after a heated row with the team, Tony found T’Challa in his room. He was fuming, face flushed and between one breath and the next, he was in T’Challa’s lap tearing his clothes off. After that, if T’Challa had a tough day or Tony had, they found each other and lost themselves in this. It wasn’t the healthiest of coping mechanisms but it did the job: they were both rather relaxed afterwards.

Lately, Tony had taken to coming here regardless of whether he’d had a bad day or not. T’Challa certainly wasn’t complaining.

He snatches the lube from the bedside table and climbs on the bed. Tony stirs, opening his eyes to see T’Challa crawling between his thighs. He smiles sleepily, spreading his legs invitingly. “Hi,” he murmurs.

T’Challa kisses the inside of his knee, “There’s a thief in my bed,” he replies.

Tony smiles, tugging at the shirt. “Would you like to make a complaint about the accommodations?” he asks and T’Challa smiles, pulling Tony into his lap. He twines his fingers in the shirt, tugging Tony closer as he takes his mouth hungrily. Tony groans, pushing in closer as he takes T’Challa’s tongue. In the months they’d been doing this, T’Challa grew skilled at multi tasking and he slicks his fingers.

Tony writhes against him, T’Challa’s jeans scratching against his bare thighs. He gasps at the first slide of T’Challa’s finger, pushing back urgently as T’Challa takes his mouth again. He’s hot and tight inside, slick from the lube. T’Challa groans, his cock aching in sympathy. T’Challa slides in a second finger, his own cock persistent and needy in his jeans. Tony pants, riding T’Challa’s hand as he stretches him open. His cock is hard, rubbing against the cotton of T’Challa’s t-shirt as he grinds against the hard body before him. T’Challa loved him like this: needy and open. He was never more honest about what he wanted than in his time with T’Challa.

When T’Challa slides in a third, Tony actually keens; his head falling back as he pushes down eagerly on T’Challa’s fingers. “I’ve missed this,” he pants, moving forward to rest his head on T’Challa’s shoulder.

T'Challa hums in agreement, pressing a soft kiss to Tony's cheek as he reaches down with his free hand to take hold of his cock. He’s wet, precome making a mess of T’Challa’s shirt and he chides him, “This was my favorite shirt.”

Tony laughs softly, pushing into T'Challa's fist insistently,“Mine too."

T'Challa strokes Tony slowly, tightening his grip with every pull. He steals Tony’s mouth once more before pulling back because he wants to see Tony’s face. Crooking his fingers, he feels a warm satisfaction as he hears Tony gasp and watches his eyes fall closed in pleasure. He works Tony with his hands, restraining himself for later. Tony clenches tight, desperately around T’Challa’s fingers, keeping him in. He crooks them again, and once more, feeling Tony jerk and release more slick over his fist.

“Babe, if you keep - if you keep doing that, I’m not going to last long,” Tony confesses, biting down on his lip as he rides T'Challa’s hand.

T’Challa nuzzles into his neck, murmuring, “No matter. I’ll bring you off again.” He curls his fingers, stroking Tony with a clever twist of his wrist and watching excitedly as Tony spills over his hand with a low, shuddering moan. He pushes down, greedily burying T’Challa’s fingers in his ass as he spurts over T’Challa’s shirt. It was a mess, probably a lost cause but T’Challa relishes in marking it further. Tony shudders and shakes, panting loudly in T’Challa’s ears as T’Challa milks out everything Tony has to give.

When he’s wrung out, eyes wet from oversensitivity, T’Challa lays him back on the bed and takes off his pants. He drops a hand to his cock briefly before taking up the lube again. Tony watches him expectantly, a brow raised. “I don’t know if my heart can take this.”

T’Challa spreads his legs, joining their bodies in the middle with a grin. “Suddenly, you’re an old man. I see,” he says. He slicks his cock and lines them up, Tony’s spent cock pressed between their stomachs. He pushes in slow, relishing in the gradual pressure as Tony’s hole tenses around his cock, welcoming it. Tony sighs, eyes closed as his hands take hold of the sheets. When he bottoms out, T’Challa lets out the breath he’d been holding.

Starting slow, he pushes in at a leisurely pace, letting Tony really feel it. Tony groans, a thin frown line between his brows as he focuses. His cock takes mild interest, jerking weakly between them as T’Challa grinds against it. When he builds up a real rhythm, he pounds into him rougher, holding Tony tighter as he lets himself go. His balls slap against Tony's ass, the headboard clacking against the wall as he buries himself inside Tony, focusing on nothing else but the burrowing inside further. Tony goads him for more, harder still, rougher still until he's bent in half, legs spread impossibly wide as T'Challa fills him. 

The tight, wet drag of Tony's hole draws a low moan from T'Challa's lips as he feels himself reaching the edge. He opens his eyes, taking in the mess of his favorite shirt, stretched out and falling off a bare shoulder. Growling, T’Challa takes hold of it, wrapping the wet cotton around Tony’s cock and stroking him loosely. Even loose, his grip provides too much friction and Tony clamps down around him, crying out as he comes again, nearly dry as he spills a little more on T'Challa's shirt.

T’Challa gasps, the vice grip around his cock pulling him over the edge. He pushes in, riding it out as his cock pulses and floods Tony with come. It’s messy, the sounds drawing a beautiful flush to Tony’s face as he takes hold of T’Challa’s hips and begs for more of it. T'Challa gives, gladly pumping his hips and letting Tony have all of it. Finally, T’Challa settles on his stomach, his cock still buried inside Tony’s ass as he comes down.

Tony turns to him, clearly exhausted but there’s a gleam in his eye that hadn’t been there before. T’Challa shakes his head fondly, “You’re rather pleased with yourself.”

“After all that, can you blame me?” he asks, petting T'Challa's shoulders and closing his eyes. T’Challa laughs, settling beside Tony as he wraps his arms around him and follows him into sleep.


End file.
